


The Pursue for Little Red Cap

by Quin



Category: Dracula - Bram Stoker, Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Rotkäppchen | Little Red Riding Hood (Fairy Tale)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Open Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25503973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quin/pseuds/Quin
Summary: A letter from his sister Lucy reaches Jonathan Harker. His niece Little Red Cap has gone missing in Transylvania while on the way to her grandmother. Fearing what could happen to a young child all alone in the dark woods, Jonathan sets out to find her, not knowing what the woods hold.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12
Collections: Crossworks 2020





	The Pursue for Little Red Cap

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kitsunerei88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsunerei88/gifts).



> Beta thanks to raininshadows.

Jonathan Harker’s Journal.

4 May. Bistritz, The Cottage.

There was a crisp breeze as I started walking from Bistritz to the Cottage. I have not seen my dear sister Lucy and her trusted Arthur in a long time. I am not quite sure why they have moved from known English soil near the Carpathian Mountains. The ruggedness of the peaks towering from the horizon holds its own beauty, but at the same time the howling winds gave me the shivers. Their constant wailing in every creak of wood and stone speaks of the loneliness in this sweep of the country. Or maybe I was just not used to it after the hustle and bustle of the well-travelled London streets. At least here I can breathe freely, while back in England the foul stench of the city seemed to follow me everywhere. 

I remember that Lucy mentioned in one of her letters that Arthur’s mother lived in a cabin near the Borgo Pass, for the fresh air helped her lungs. But still, time does not stop for the elderly, and therefore I think Arthur and Lucy want to be close to Arthur’s mother should the case of need arise. 

It may be the will of fate or just a coincidence, but my work as an agent has led me to the same region as where my next of kin have chosen to live. Later I am going to visit a resident Count, Dracula by name, to help him facilitate the purchase of an estate in London.

The thought made me smile, that one of my dearests chose to live in Transylvania while one of the locals is about to make himself a home in The City.

But first, I had wanted to pay Lucy and Arthur a visit. I should not forget their daughter. Her name is Lucy as well, but since her grandmother had gifted her a cap of red velvet everyone simply calls my niece Little Red Cap. I was curious to see how fast she has grown up already. 

My anticipation to meet my family wrapped me in warm feelings. These were knocked away when I stepped onto the clearing where the Holmwoods’ cottage stood. The wind took up pace and rattled against the blinds. Why were the windows shut during day time? 

I knocked against the door, several times. No answer. Hesitant what to do I lingered at the front step, shaking in the cold. Then, another gust pushed the door open. 

“Lucy, Arthur, Little Red Cap?” I called. No answer. I went inside, a knot inside my stomach forming. My eyes needed a moment to adjust. There were some wine bottles and a stale cake with one piece of it missing set on a table. The nearby dinner plate was half eaten and had gone cold. A chair stood far away as if someone had hastily pushed it away.

I did not know I had been holding my breath until I spotted a letter with my name on it. I stumbled over my feet, such great was my desire to see what my dear sister had written to me.

Letter from Mrs. Lucy Holmwood to Mr. Jonathan Harker.

30 April. 

My dearest brother, 

forgive Arthur and me for not giving you a warm welcome and greeting you in person. Also, I ask you for forgiveness for this hastily written note which probably shows in my handwriting. I hope it is readable to you. My heart is sinking as I plan to leave this house. Little Red Cap has gone missing. Arthur does not know and cannot help as he has gone hunting with a friend. We need the food to sustain ourselves. I must find our daughter before he returns home. I do not want him to worry as I am worrying now. Oh, how I blame myself for not accompanying her on her way to her treasured grandmother. The poor woman has fallen sick and as weak as she is currently, she is in dire need of our support. I believed that Little Red Cap could go out alone for it is not that far where Grandma lives and if my instructions were clear enough, all would go well and, in the meantime, I could make preparations for your much-awaited visit. 

Alas, she has not returned and I fear Little Red Cap might have fallen and broken an ankle. She is my princess, my one and only. I do not want to imagine her fear when she is alone in the woods, freezing, in pain, not being able to move. Pray, dear Jonathan, that I will be able to find her and that there is no need for you to read this letter, but we will be safe back in the cottage with a disconcerting tale to tell, but with a tale that has a happy ending. 

Your loving sister Lucy

Jonathan Harker’s Journal Continued.

5 May. Bukovina, The Woods.

I waited for another day, but neither Lucy and Little Red Cap nor Arthur returned. Then, I decided I had to leave as well. It was not in my anxious heart to sit idly in the cottage, listening to the weeping winds, trying to keep the door of the cottage shut. Even when I stepped outside with what was supposed to be dawn – worry had not made me sleep well - there was little light to be had. There was a grey haze hanging low in the tree crowns of the massive beeches. When I left the clearing, it was as if I entered into a world that was a mere shadow of the one I had known so far. 

Shreds of fog drifted past my nose, leaving pricks on my skin with their ice-cold tendrils. Leaves bereft of any colour formed a thick canopy above my head; dead twigs crunched beneath my boots. My breath turned into small white clouds. I asked myself if I should have brought a torch with me, but then I doubt a small flame would have made a difference. It just would have cast another shadow into the void.

Soon I had lost any sense of my whereabouts and of any hour passed as well. I shuddered, thinking of Little Red Cap and Lucy. If I already felt lost, what would the poor child feel, alone and abandoned from the world? Mina and I were not married yet, but how much would our sorrow grow if we were and had a child missing in these woods? For my sister’s and my niece’s sake, I had to carry on searching although I did not know where these steep and stony paths would lead me. 

Something suddenly brushed past my neck and left me shuddering. I touched the skin and upon inspecting my fingers I saw two droplets of blood. A shriek tore through the otherwise eerie silence. When I looked up I found a bat circling my head. Was it already dusk? Little did I know about bats. My assumption was that they fed upon insects, but then I could have been wrong. I stopped down to take up a large, thick branch to chase the creature away. Once more, it screeched out before it flew off. I wiped some cold sweat off my forehead with a handkerchief. 

Then, I berated myself for my foolishness. I was a grown man misspending valuable time with a common animal when finding a young girl needed all my focus and attention.

“Little Red Cap,” I started calling out, “Lucy.”

Red Cap, Red Cap, Cap, Lucy, Lucy, the empty voice of the echo hurled back at me before being drowned by the ever-present lament of the winds. No chance that my niece or sister would hear me if they were not standing in sight distance. 

Despite that, I could not help but carefully listen into the darkness if there was a sound of an answer. I flattered myself that if I was not able to see that far that my ears might make it up for the lack of vision. Instead of hearing the desired voices, the howling of a pack of wolves made my heart thump loudly in my chest. Low and fierce, stating that the night belonged to them. A pair of red eyes was the only bright thing I managed to see in the night. I held on tight to my makeshift walking staff, but it snapped into several small pieces on the third step I took. It must have been hollow inside. 

I fell onto my knees, scrambling around, desperately trying to find another branch that could serve me as any defence. However, there was nothing but dirt and hard, unyielding bedrock. Where were the hunters, where were Arthur and his friend when you needed them?

The red eyes seemed to approach and the only thing I was capable of doing was crawling backwards until I found a cave to hide. But did bats not live in caves?

Jonathan Harker’s Journal Continued.

The next day or the day after. Borgo Pass.

I must have fallen asleep with exhaustion, but I cannot say how long I have been asleep. The cave was dark and I had not dared to explore its depth. It shielded me from the worst of the gales outside, however I had been still on the edge. A constant high-pitched noise filled my ears and no matter where I had turned my head I had been unable to locate it. I had covered my ears to no success and tried to protect my neck by curling into a ball.

When I woke I was stiff and sore and despite my attempt to cover my skin I had an itchy feeling at the base of my skull. I was relieved to notice though that the noises had faded into the background, so I only felt a light throb in my temples.

I stepped outside and was surprised to find a stranger holding a lamp standing next to the entrance of the cave. He raised his arms in apology and said to me, “I did not wish to startle you, but I was worried to find you lying in this cave wounded. Wolves are on the prowl here and I often see them when I am hunting for prey.”

Accepting his hand to get myself back on my feet, I took note of his face. It might have been the light of his lamp that showed his face to be unnaturally white and his lips to be stark red in contrast. Also, the stranger’s teeth were sharp and pointy. Though, who am I to judge a friendly local? I assumed it must have been one of Arthur’s hunting friends since the stranger knowingly nodded upon me mentioning the Holmwood family.

“Oh,” he said upon hearing me retell what had occurred to Little Red Cap, “it is easy to lose track in the forest, especially for such a young, sweet child. It is good fortune then that I am well-versed in this area.”

I told him what I knew about the location of the grandmother’s cabin and with a stick he drew a rough map into the dirt, pointing out different landmarks. He showed me a safe route and suggested splitting up thus that we could cover more grounds in our search for Little Red Cap. We agreed upon meeting at the cabin in case Lucy and my niece had already been found – so we hoped – their way to grandmother who surely was waiting to find some comfort and relief for her sickness.

We parted ways with words of well-wishes and my spirits which had been on the verge of despair were on the rise again. In hindsight, I might have noticed a malicious glint in the eye of the stranger or wondered about my conversableness with a man I only knew from hearsay before.

Jonathan Harker’s Journal Continued.

A day in May. The Cabin.

The stranger did tell the truth about the way to the cabin. I had already mastered most of the steepness of the Borgo pass and there were only slight rises in the ground here and there. I was sweating, but my sweat was cold as the temperature was constantly dropping. I could not wrap my arms around myself as I needed to balance my steps on the stony ground. The forest started to thin out; the ancient massive beeches gave way to spindly crippled skeletons, charcoal black with all life abandoned in them a long time ago. I wondered how they were able to withstand the wind with their roots barely holding on to the ground. 

The sun continued to hide behind a veil of clouds, but to my pleasure a couple of hours past what must have been sunset a gust pushed them away to reveal a pale-yellow moon. To my relief, the barely visible light was sufficient enough to reveal the wooden housing that Grandma Holmwood called her home. I was surprised, though, that the door was left slightly ajar. Who had forgotten to close the door in that weather?

Carefully, I approached and peered through the crack. A candle was burning low on a small nightstand. When I saw a young girl sitting on a chair next to a bed a spark of joy ignited in me. That must have been Little Red Cap. I approached her carefully as not to startle her. However, she saw me coming as she turned her head towards me and put a finger on her lips, pointing towards the bed. I nodded. The grandmother was sleeping.

I took a seat beside her and wondered if the girl had dared to drink of the wine. Her lips and even her tiny pointy teeth were red-smeared as red as her cape. In contrast though, Little Red Cap’s face lacked colour, probably because too much wine had made her sick.

Inwardly, I shook my head. Due to her illness the grandmother was not at fault. “Where’s your mother?” I whispered. “She was looking for you, too.”

"She is in the room next door, resting after all that exhaustion." Little Red Cap smiled and a shiver ran down my spine. All that dry wine made her face look grotesque. I took a handkerchief out of my pocket and tried wiping her mouth. Little Red Cap flinched, her eyes blazing in protest. 

What a squeamish child. I should have a word with my sister in the morning. My thoughts were interrupted when a sting of pain reached my brain. I looked down and Little Red Cap’s incisors had pierced my skin. Little droplets of blood dripped down my skin and where they dried they took almost that deep burgundy colour of the spots on her mouth.

I groaned out loud while trying to clean up Little Red Cap and myself. There was a creaking sound next to me that made me almost jump from my chair. 

Little Red Cap haughtily rolled her eyes and hissed: “See what you have done now, Uncle Jonathan. You have woken dear Grandmother.”

From out of the bed sheets, a stout figure wearing a large, loosely fitting cap on her head, ears prominently peeking outside, rose, with large eyes fiercely blinking against the candle light.

I remembered seeing Arthur’s mother before when he and Lucy had still lived in England. My memory might have been fraud, but I recalled her as a woman with a delicate face and a small frame.

"Mrs. Holmwood", I said. "I apologise for waking you in the middle of the night. Are you well? I hope you do not mind me saying, but your ears look sort of large and swollen."

“Dearie, do not worry,” the grandmother replied, her voice breaking several times as she talked. “It is fortunate that my ears are big, for they allow the elderly people to listen better to what everyone has to say.”

It must have been the flu then, I told myself, that had failed her vocal chords, for between Mrs. Holmwood’s chortled-out words there were several low-pitched sounds that I for myself did not associate with women. Strangely, they reminded me of the voice of that stranger I had met a few days ago in the woods.

I scolded myself that it was my own exhaustion speaking. Little Red Cap would have noticed if there had been something truly wrong with the grandmother she so often saw and deeply loved. Yet, the child now peacefully sat on its chair, looking affectionately at the old woman. 

“Well,” I took up the conversation again. “My sister wrote to me that you had fallen ill, I just want to show proper manners and inquire about your health. Back home, my fiancé Mina and I know a good doctor, but sadly he is not here. Please, allow me to ask in his place: how are your eyes these days?”

“I assure you, there is no reason for concern. Their size allows me to see well, even in dim light.” Mrs. Holmwood took my hands in hers, patting mine, and again I found myself baffled. I am not the smallest of men, but her hands seemed to be double the size of mine and they were covered with a dense layer of thick white hair. 

I knew I was being impolite, but I could not help but stare, which due to her great eyesight did not go by unnoticed. Mrs. Holmwood powerfully squeezed my hands again, raising the corners of her mouth to reveal a set of large, sharp teeth. Suddenly, there was the same swooshing in my ears that I had had a couple of days ago. Mrs. Holmwood’s answer got lost in it as my gaze wandered to her incisors. Her lips were as plump and red as the strangers, her teeth as stained as Little Red Cap’s.

My hands and arms would have trembled if not for Mrs. Holmwood’s iron grip on me. Think, Jonathan, think, there is something in the picture that you are missing here. But I could not think properly. I felt like all the blood had drained from my brain and there was a tight knot forming in my stomach, twisting, turning, until I was all cramped up.

My breath caught in my throat, my tongue was glued to my gums. I opened my mouth for words, but none came out. My subconsciousness warned me to escape now, but as a responsible adult I could not leave a child alone when my body signalled me of imminent danger coming from the grandmother.

I turned my head to make eye contact with Little Red Cap, to signal her to alarm her mother, to flee, that outside would be the best place to be and regroup, to find out what was going on. To my deepest distress Little Red Cap did not seem to be concerned at all. She flashed me her own teeth in a wolfish smile.

“Grandma’s teeth are fine if that is what is troubling you, Uncle Jonathan. They look like mine, and I am fit and young.” She then proceeded to lick her lips.

“But why are they so pointy and besmirched?” I incoherently uttered, swallowing hard.

The flesh on my skin began crawling when Little Red Cap left her chair and scrambled for my lap. I struggled and started kicking out, but there was no getting away from her. Mrs. Holmwood still held on to me tight. 

“It is the blood that sustains our lives. Grandmother always promised me that I could be a princess one day, but living she could not keep her promise. Thus I could no longer hold her close to my heart. I still get to live in a castle like a proper princess should, though, in the castle of the Count Dracula, thanks to Grandma’s sacrifice,” Little Red Cap smirked. “She was the one who also told me the stories of God’s fallen who no longer could walk in sunshine and had to feed off the living, but they do not scare me anymore when I get what I have desired for so long.”

“And what will you do, dear friend?” The stranger, shedding all pretence now and revealing himself to be the Count, murmured into my ear, leaving my frozen heart pounding with sheer anxiety. “Will you be predator or prey? Hunted and haunted like your sister, lying in a cold embrace with Mrs. Holmwood, in a nameless grave? Or will you be a hunter with the noble creatures of the night?”


End file.
